


Almost Made It

by Azuremosquito



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4384010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azuremosquito/pseuds/Azuremosquito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Karl is taken away to Kirkwall, Anders escapes the Circle and tries to get to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Made It

Anger burned hot and bright in his gut as the mage peered out from around the corner toward the freshly docked ship. He hid against an abandoned warehouse that had stood alongside the quays since the time of Andraste herself, if the depth of decay and decrepitude were any indication. Rain dripped from the hood of his stolen cloak, hitting him between the eyes and sliding down his long nose and he grimaced, pulling back into the shadows beneath the building wall, shivering.

Mages weren’t exactly given garments suitable for traveling in inclement weather and it had been raining nonstop since he escaped Kinloch. Not that he’d had any indication of what the weather was like outside the stone walls of his prison home. There were no windows to gaze out of to even see the sky, let alone sunlight or clouds or the stars at night.

It had been a long time since the young mage had run. He used to frequently, when they’d first hauled him to the Circle. At first, he’d just wanted to go home. He didn’t like the dark, drafty tower without windows, or the creepy plate clad templars that were always watching. He missed his mother and siblings. He missed his friends in the village. He missed the farm cat with a torn ear from when she’d chased off a wolf. As he got older and understood more of how the Circle worked, as his fellow apprentices disappeared in the night without explanation, as more of the Tranquil appeared, he finally began to understand what his future held in store. A future fettered like a dog on a leash for the Chantry to prove they had collared Thedas' most dangerous.

No, he amended. Dogs were treated far better than mages here in Ferelden.

But Anders had stopped running for a time. He’d found comfort in the arms of his friend. Something forbidden, something they’d been forced to keep hidden, meeting in secret in the dark places of the tower. Karl had made him feel like perhaps this was home now, that perhaps things were not as bleak as they'd seemed. As dark as the future looked, they could find solace in each other.

They must not have been as careful as they thought, however. Young people in love were seldom as discrete as they believed. Somehow, the powers in charge had discovered their illicit affair. The two apprentices had undergone their Harrowings, graduating to fully-fledged mages, Anders eager to move into the more private "rooms" Harrowed mages were given. He'd looked forward to an opportunity to share more comfortable moments with Karl instead of quick trysts in drafty corners and hidden rooms. To not having to share sleeping quarters with twenty other apprentices.

As he was moving his meager belongings (a small embroidered pillow his mother had given him, a set of writing quills, a spellbook and his spare set of robes) Karl had come to tell him the news. The Circle in Kirkwall had written, requesting new talent from among the mages in Kinloch and Karl had been among those chosen for the exchange. Karl, and not Anders.

In that moment, all of the young mage's fear and disgust with the Circle had returned in spades. Karl was being taken away from him, the one bright light in this miserable darkness. The First Enchanter had always been kind to him, meting out minimal punishments for his previous escape attempts, had defended him from the templars' wrath when they'd wanted harsher punishments. He'd been so sure the man would listen, but his petitions to the First Enchanter to send another mage instead of Karl, or send them together, had fallen on deaf ears.

Anders had learned a harsh lesson that day, watching as Karl and the other mages departed with their templar escorts. It was dangerous to get attached to people, and foolish to trust anyone.

The first chance Anders got, he ran.

He'd made it farther this time than he ever had before, all the way to Gwaren. If he could just get onboard that ship, it would take him to Kirkwall. To Karl. He had no idea how much money something like that would cost but he'd stolen a fat purse off a drunken man in the bar last night. He felt no shame for his act. He was desperate and cold and starving and the other man clearly had enough for excess. He just hoped it would be enough.

Peering around the corner again, he watched the sailors unloading the ship while another man argued with a trio of richly dressed merchants. The captain, bartering about their goods, he assumed. If he had any chance of getting on that ship, that was the man to speak to.

Anders waited until the merchants appeared satisfied and money changed hands. As the merchants departed and the captain turned back to his ship, Anders ran, across the rain-slicked stone dock right up to the captain.

"Please, ser, I'd like to book passage on your ship."

The captain glanced over at the young man, a scowl turning down the corners of his mouth. "This ain't a passenger ship. Be off wit' ye." He turned and moved toward the gangplank.

"Please, ser, I know! I can be useful! I'll do whatever you need." Anders was desperate, wringing his hands together as he followed after.

"Already got a full crew," the captain barked. "Don't need another mouth t' feed."

Greatly daring, Anders grabbed the man's sleeve and extended the fat purse he'd stolen. "I can pay."

He saw the look of disdain in the man's eye turn to avarice. Licking his lips, a smile spread across the captain’s worn features. "Well now, why didn't'cha say so? I-"

The air went cold around Anders, as if a whirling vortex hung above him, siphoning every scrap of warmth he had left. There was a clap, as of thunder, and something precious was ripped from him, rushing out in torrents and then bleeding away into a trickle until nothing was left. The mage didn't wait. Blighted templars!

Panic fueling suddenly weakened limbs, he bolted from the captain like a hare leaps from the wolf as metal scraped on the stone behind him. He was cornered, with nowhere to go but into the sea. Well, he'd escaped them by swimming before, he could do it again.

"Stop him!" A voice shouted from behind and the captain lunged out of the way, not getting involved in this mess, running for the gangplank as templars barreled after the skinny escaped mage.

Anders ran, long slender legs pumping as he made for the end of the dock. He careened off a stack of boxes, struggling to fight the lightheadedness that always followed a mana drain. He was almost there. Just a bit further-

Something heavy collided with his legs and he went down with a loud cry. The crashing racket of metal armor told him all he needed to know as the heavy weight pinned him down. Even so, he struggled still. He was so close.

His vision darkened and he saw spots in front of his eyes, his head snapping to the side. He felt warm blood trickle down his chin as the templar drew back to strike him again.

"Enough!"

The templar pinning Anders down glanced over his shoulder and then stepped back as two more stepped forward and picked the mage up off the dock, hauling him to his feet by his shoulders. His head lolled forward and he groaned, his vision swimming. The docks that had been bustling with activity moments before had gone completely silent, all the sailors and dockworkers finding important business elsewhere, leaving the templars to conduct the capture in peace.

"Thought you could take ship and get away from us, Anders?" The commanding templar peered down at him with a smug grin. Anders didn't know his name but he recognized the man from around the tower. Great.  

Lip bleeding and his left cheek bruising, Anders lifted his head and grinned at the man. Then he leaned forward and vomited down the front of his armor, his head spinning.

He was backhanded again, head lurching back on his neck. He groaned as they started hauling him back up the dock, his limp frame easily managed by the burly templars holding each arm. As they reached the buildings, Anders slowly lifted his head despite the splitting pain and looked back over his shoulder. Toward the ships. Across the ocean.

Toward Karl.


End file.
